


The Break-Up

by smartgirlsaremean



Series: The Wedding Planner [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Wedding Planner (2001)
Genre: Even if I'm not posting it as often, F/M, Missing Scene, Really just proof that I'm still writing stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 12:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15461901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartgirlsaremean/pseuds/smartgirlsaremean
Summary: Belle and Gaston come to a decision and clear the air a little.





	The Break-Up

Belle paced the living room of the apartment she’d shared with Gaston for the last two years. It was a lovely space - clean and modern and sophisticated. White walls, sleek black leather furniture, hardwood floors. Gaston was incredibly proud of it. Belle hated it. She always had, but she’d never had the nerve to say anything. She stopped next to an end table and picked up the red glass rose that sat in a crystal vase. It was the one ornament she’d contributed to the living room, a single splash of color in an ocean of black, white, and brown. For a wild moment she considered hurling the rose across the room and shattering it, but instead she dropped it back in the vase and resumed her pacing.

The door opened, and she jumped a mile.

“Gaston?” she said disbelievingly as he walked toward her. “What are you doing home?”

“I need to talk to you,” he said heavily. He dropped onto the sofa. “I took an early flight.”

“I need to talk to you, too,” she said. She sat next to him, tucking her feet up underneath her.

They sat in silence for a long time. Belle’s eyes were fixed on that red rose in the vase, and she wished she’d smashed it when she’d had the chance.

“Why do you want to marry me, Isabelle?”

Belle blinked and looked back at her fiance. “Isabelle? You never call me Isabelle.”

“That’s because you don’t like it.”

She shook her head slowly. “I never said I didn’t like it. I said I preferred ‘Belle.’”

“Do you like it when I call you Izzy?”

The lie sprung to her lips so easily she was shocked at herself, but one glance at his face told her that now was the time to come clean. “No. I’ve never liked it.”

He sighed and dropped his head back. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did. The first time. You laughed and said it suited me. I’ve been ‘Izzy’ to you ever since.”

He frowned and rubbed his forehead as if fighting off a headache. “What about this wedding? Do you want  _ any _ of this?”

Again, reassurances jumped to the tip of her tongue. Of  _ course _ she wanted this. She didn’t care what kind of ceremony they had, or what kind of music they played, or what they served at dinner, or what flavor cake they had. As long as he was happy…

But he didn’t look very happy at the moment.

“No,” she said, the word nearly sticking in her throat.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Silence stretched between them. Belle untucked her legs and then tucked them under her again. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “I guess I thought...you seemed to care so much.”

Gaston drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. He appeared to be thinking hard, though Belle couldn’t say for sure. It wasn’t an expression he wore often.

“Why do  _ you  _ want to marry  _ me _ ?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Gaston said baldly. “Honest, Izzy...sorry. Belle. I just...don’t.” They sat in silence a few minutes longer, and then Gaston jumped to his feet. “We can’t talk here, it’s like...this place is...come on.” He waited for Belle to slip her shoes on and then led the way out the door, down three flights of stairs, and across the street to a bar and grill they’d once frequented because it was close and cheap and dirty and fun and loud, but in the middle of the day it was quiet, only a few patrons at the booths and a single server winding his way slowly around the tables.

“How did we let it get this far?” Gaston asked when they were seated in a corner booth, their sodas sitting untouched and gathering condensation.

“I don’t know,” Belle said. “I guess I got used to just doing things your way. Your way usually works out, after all.”

“And I got used to having you around,” Gaston said. “My parents were always telling me I should make an honest woman out of you,” he grinned when Belle snorted, “wouldn’t it be great to unite the families, you’d be such an asset at business dinners…and I mean, all of that is true, but I guess I thought...I didn’t realize those were the only reasons I had.”

“My parents were pushing for this, too,” Belle admitted. “They couldn’t help out as much financially because of Mother, but…”

“That’s not...Belle, please tell me you weren’t marrying me because of your mom’s illness. You know I’d keep helping you out, right? You’re my best friend, and Colette’s been like another mom to me.”

“Not consciously,” Belle said slowly. “I mean, I knew that you’d always do what you could. I guess...maybe. A little.”

Gaston frowned, but he took a deep breath. “Okay, that’s...pretty bad, but so is marrying you because you could wow my potential clients.”

Belle nodded and took a sip of her soda. “How did you figure out that you didn’t want to marry me?”

“Honestly?” Gaston shrugged uneasily. “I...wasn’t all that excited about coming home. I shouldn’t even have gone in the first place, right? Who ever heard of the groom peacing out and not coming back until a week before the wedding?” He looked up at her. “How about you?”

Belle fidgeted with her straw. “It’s strange, there...there was this night a couple of weeks ago - remember that I told you I was going to a movie with some friends?”

“Yeah.”

“That wasn’t...the whole truth. They were new acquaintances - people I’d only met that day. And when I got there one of them left and then it was just me and - this man.”

Gaston’s face went white. “Are you trying to say you...you cheated on me?”

“No,” Belle said sadly. “It was much more complicated than that. I just wanted to do something different and new, and you hate Westerns, so I went, and at first I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel bad, but then...that man...he was...I shouldn’t have liked him as much as I did. I wasn’t unfaithful  _ technically _ , but that’s splitting hairs. If I was engaged to you, I had no business feeling that way about someone else.”

“So you...there’s...are you and this guy...are you gonna be…”

“No,” Belle said hastily. “No, we’re not. He doesn’t want me, but even if he did - this isn’t about him. I’m not going to run off to him the moment we’re done here. It was just - there shouldn’t even have been a question, y’know? It’s one thing to notice that someone’s attractive, it’s another thing to - well - to  _ be _ attracted.”

“Yeah. I get that.” Gaston stirred his ice with his straw. “You should have told me the truth.”

“I know.” Belle studied his face. “Do you...want to know who he is?”

“Have you seen him since?”

“Yes. It’s been kind of unavoidable.”

“Do I know him?”

“Yes.”

He breathed deeply and thought for a moment. “No, I don’t want to know. You’re not making a confession, here. And you said you weren’t going to be with him, anyway. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Belle shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. “So what do we do now?”

“Well, that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it?” Gaston said, a small smile creeping across his face. “Whatever we want.”

“What I want?” Belle bit her lip. “I haven’t thought about what I really want in  _ so long _ .”

“Y’know what you should do? You should go on our honeymoon.”

“What?”

“All the reservations are paid for, and most of them are nonrefundable. You should just go. You’ve always wanted to travel.”

“But that was your honeymoon too,” Belle protested. “That’s not fair.”

“I’ve been to all of those places before, and I’ll probably go back at some point. You should go and have fun. I’ll break the news to everybody, and then you can go have your adventure.”

Belle smiled. “You really are the best friend a gal could have.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “I’m pretty amazing.” He stood from the table. “I’ll talk to you later. We can figure out the apartment and all that other stuff. I should probably go make a few calls.”

Rising, Belle wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Back atcha,” he said, squeezing her tight. He tossed a ten on the table and strode out the door, and Belle sat back down with a sigh. She felt as if she’d run a marathon, and her heart still squeezed whenever she thought of Alan, but he’d been right. The problems in her and Gaston’s engagement had not begun with him. She did  _ not _ believe that the way she felt about him was purely a result of unhappiness with her situation, but she could not know for sure until she had perspective.

What better way to gain perspective than to see the world?

She smiled to herself. For the first time in years, she felt  _free_.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted anything in fracking AGES but I swear I've been writing. I have just felt like the least creative, laziest POS lately and I've hated every word to come out of my keyboard. But I think this is okay.


End file.
